


Close To Me

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: F/M, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Teasing, humanz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: If the band split up again, she would ensure one thing.





	Close To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is rather detrimental I understand, but Noodle's the smartest one: she'd think this through.
> 
> There isn't NEARLY enough Phase 4 2dle.

He was behind a keyboard, of course. Diligently working on a track with a squint of concentration only he could muster.

The other half of the band left hours ago, a meet-up with some potential collaborators wanting to get in on the newest phase. With the album finally released, their message had been said, and the world made it perfectly clear how much it missed them.

Only now instead of fanmail, which still came, but ultimately paled in comparison to comments and hashtags. She couldn't remember the last time so many interviews had poured in! Then again they didn't exactly have much in the ways of social media back when they were making G-Bites. Hell, back then she  _was_ a G-bite. 

But people were now much more widespoken in their adoration. Be it native or overseas. Some even remembered things they forgot themselves. From Russel's life in New York, Murdoc's in Stoke, and 2D's memorable time in Eastbourne. She thought someone started a blog (bluehairedbabies.com or something). Too bad no one told Toochi they made those pills for men…

Yet there was one thing prodding Noodle's mind as she watched him fiddle at the Casio, tongue peeking out his lips.

Usually, it went against the Gorillaz way: thinking too far ahead, worrying over could-be's, stewing on errors past—but the Gorillaz way _also_ led to trigger-happy Cyborgs, dangerously spurned fans, and regurgitating toilets. To expect  _their_ type of band to remain intact despite any circumstances was no more realistic than expecting Murdoc to give up drinking—or bludgeoning their Stockholm-stricken singer. That had been somewhat a shock after reuniting; 2D would often quake and resist whenever she tried leading him out of the house, insisting it would anger Him. She hadn't seen him that gripped with horror since learning sex made babies.

In between gigs she and Russel set on correcting that. They made great strides after her house-warming gift, which he gladly pinned to the wall with the help of several darts. They spent the afternoon like that, all three of them, until Murdoc barged his way in, 2D frozen in  _slight_ trepidation, and dragged himself slovenly to bed. The frontman then  _allowed_ himself to regain the glow, while Noodle had reveled in that smile.

However, no group, no matter how successful, should force itself in each other's company; a lesson Gorillaz more often learned the hard way. Not only would it end in bitter pain, but _worse:_  degrade their music. Even Bastard of Shrek wouldn't sacrifice anything for that.

Point was: the more she thought about it, the more heaving boxes, angry threats, and skidding tires pervaded the silence. Taking those she cherished with them… 

Her footsteps carried into his room, and the black-eyed simpleton turned her way with a slight smile.

“Oi. Fought yew was off wiv Russ n’ Muds.”

“ _Sugoine,_ it’s hot…” she fanned a stack music sheets in her hand. “Why can’t I go topless again?”

“’Cause it’d give Russ a heart attack.” He replied without looking up.

Her mouth quirked up. “It would?”

“’E’s old enough, y’know.”

The guitarist chuckled and flapped her blue tank top. Quite breathable in most climates, but in _this_ heat, might as well have been an overcoat.

“It’s only a matter of time before Jamie brings it up anyway.”

2D stiffened and Noodle could see his back stand to full height; his consternation was obvious from her side of the room. Two sheets of paper fell to the carpet, and his hand trembled ever so slightly.

He swallowed. “Tha’…tha’ _won’ ‘appen.”_   It broke no room for argument. It was the same type of tone used when Murdoc proposed a shoot of Noodle going mano-a-mano with her rapid-firing doppleganger. It had only been a brainstorm, to circumvent ideas and promote the new album, but it was the _principle_ and of course Murdoc would not be challenged. The singer hadn’t been expecting to escape a beatdown, and Muds knew that, it was the fact that it wouldn’t sway him that moved the bassist (if “Whateva…” could be counted as moved).

Upon reaching adulthood, her maturity had been surprisingly anti-climatic for the boys who'd known her since she was 10. True, she had what they sought in groupies and male attention either made them uncomfortable or hostile (mostly hostile), but for the most part she was still their little Noodle, just with reminders of how much time had passed. Russel was definitely hit hardest.

Jamie however had made full use of her curvatures, starting with the Jaguar shot.It'd been a little surprising at first, but she didn't really mind—soon though, however it happened, she was wearing just as much if not more than her three male bandmates again. Russel definitely hit the hardest. 

Leaning close to her favorite vocalist, Noodle smiled softly. “Would Russel mind if I lost the boots?”

“Ah s’pose not.”

She kicked off the knee-highs and laid her feet against the wall, ankles crossed. She observed 2D trying to compose (in more ways than one).

“Toochi?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t leave.”

He froze. “…Izzit anotha ghost?” Carefully, he twisted his head around.

A curl of warmth interfered with the worry, and she angled her head to look up (side-down).

“Remember when—” best not to dredge up bad memories, “…we came here after reuniting? Whenever the band splits, it usually ends with us coming back together.”

He furrowed his brow. “Ain’t tha' a good fing, lil’ luv?”

“…I don’t want to come together again.”

2D’s heart stopped. Hoping, _pleading,_ he’d heard wrong. He turned. Was it the house? Was it something Murdoc did? Was there some thing he could do?!

“W-w-wot?! _Why_ Newds?!” He cried, looking every bit like she’d just hold him she was about to carpet-bomb Essex, or start breeding whales.

She looked up, face giving away absolutely nothing. Even with the bond they shared, it was nearly impossible to tell what she was thinking. The best he could make out was a sort of…worriedness. Yet if she was worried, she was certainly quiet about it. He wasn’t sure he liked that…

"We reunite and make an album. Then fight, then depart without seeing each other for who knows how long." Her expression didn't change, but her eyes softened. “I do not want to keep going the way things've always been…even if it is foolish."

He hadn’t moved.

She carried on.

"Toochi…I am glad we met. That we have known each other so long. Our time together is precious to me. It would…make me happy…if we did not  _have_ to find each other again…” she said coyly. "However things turn out." Now was the time to keep going, lest she bore him or never get it all in the open. "A-and I don’t care how many migraines you get, or painkillers, or if you can’t stand up some days, or…”

He wasn’t answering. His face was now readable as hers.

Noodle waited wordlessly, silence curling her toes. She had been so emotional, it might have been too shocking to take at once. Intimate displays were rare from her, reserved only for the conception of music. He hadn’t said a single word this whole outburst. Who knows how-

Two lanky arms scooped her up.

“Yew’r me best friend, y’know tha’?”

Noodle felt her chest swelling with newfound warmth. No time for thinking, she wrapped her arms around him, full-force. A hand smoothed down her back. She could smell butterscotch and paper.

They pulled apart, just enough to smile.

The peace was kindly interrupted by the bang of the front door. The pair jerked, before Noodle resentfully pulled away (a spindly hand stroked her hair). 

Two sets of heavy boots entered the hall.

“Oi! You lot alive in ‘ere?!” It was only half-joking.

The youngest bandmate stepped toward the doorway, growing a smile as their beloved drummer turned the corner.

“ _Okaerinasai,_ Russel." She beamed. "Were they excited about the album?”

Their nonchalant percussionist gave a shrug. “Eh…seen one vulture, seen ‘em all. Whatchy’all been up to?”

Murdoc came up behind the hip-hop lover as she shrugged in turn. “Talking over the chance of Jamie drawing me in the nude.”

Two pairs of eyes flew open, latching on 2D for confirmation.

The singer rubbed his neck and looked away.

Russel really _did_ look like he might have a heart attack, for a moment, wherein Noodle regretted her words entirely…then his expression grew lethal.

Murdoc seemed quite calm; akin to inquiring of the weather or the pizza man's arrival. “Did ‘e say something?”

The ivory gaze was stiff, but terrifying. “If he did, I’m’ll arrange a little _meetin’_ with Mr. Hewlett…” 

2D warily eyed the seething drummer, his gaze anywhere but the source of rage flooding their unsuspecting house. Looking over the music sheets all focus reattached on Noodle.

She smiled, giving him a wink.

…He returned to the keyboard, shaking his head. “Give ‘im one f’me, mate.”

**Author's Note:**

> These are all so short! Dammit, they weren’t supposed to be so short!


End file.
